


Plumtastic

by ArcticLucie



Series: StarkBucksBingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bucky Barnes's Plums, Bucky knows what he's doing, Food Kink, Fruit, Lust, M/M, Tony is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: Bucky's love of fruit does dangerous things to Tony's resolve.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: StarkBucksBingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805911
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95
Collections: StarkBucksBingo2020





	Plumtastic

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Plumtastic  
> Collaborator Name: ArcticLucie  
> Square Filled: B5, plums  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Bucky/Tony  
> Rating: M  
> Major Tags & Triggers: Implied sexual content, food kink  
> Summary: Bucky's love of fruit does dangerous things to Tony's resolve.  
> Word Count: 794

The first time he watches Bucky eat a plum, Tony narrowly avoids having an aneurysm. The vision of teeth tearing into tender flesh, the shine from a bead of juice dribbling down his chin, the cockteasing moan he lets out as he chews has Tony’s brain launching itself off a cliff. Tony hates it, every torturous second of it, but he doesn’t look away.

He takes two cold showers that day to keep from jacking off to the image of the Winter Soldier eating a goddamn piece of fruit, and he vows never to let that happen.

He breaks that vow two days later.

Another plum, and another chance for Tony to memorize the movement of his jaw when Bucky takes his first bite. Like Adam eating forbidden fruit, and fuck, all Tony wants is an original sin in the form of that mouth and his dick. If Bucky notices him staring, he doesn’t let on. And he only looks at Tony once when he chokes on his coffee.

Tony hates plums. Did he mention that? But when Bucky’s tongue darts out to lap at the fruit’s exposed insides, Tony thinks he should reconsider. He’d bet anything would taste good on Bucky’s lips. And with that, he takes his leave, retreating to the privacy of his bedroom to imagine how those lips would taste after sucking his cock.

The next day, it’s a strawberry instead of a plum. Tony’s first thought is to add whipped cream to the grocery list. His second? The probability of spontaneously transmuting into a strawberry. It’s impossibly low, but he can dream. Tony grabs a berry on his way out of the kitchen. His fingers brush against Bucky’s in the bowl, but he thinks nothing of it. Or of the flash of heat it sends barreling down his spine.

By the end of the week, all that’s left in the fruit bowl are ripe bananas, Bucky having gone through three apples, an orange, and the most divine peach Tony had ever seen. But he nopes right the fuck out after watching Bucky’s tactile fingers work over a banana peel. He knows he wouldn’t survive seeing the phallic fruit entering Bucky’s parted lips, tongue cradling the underside, the soft sink of teeth into the near gooey flesh.

He makes it as far as the elevator before he has to take a moment to will away his erection. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Bucky wanted him dead.

He tries to ban fruit from the premises; nobody takes him seriously.

His steadfast avoidance of the kitchen when Bucky’s around lasts all of three days until his unhealthy dependence on coffee puts an end to his win streak. The dim light gives him a false sense of security when he enters, but then his eyes catch Bucky’s and he withers.

“Dragon fruit?” Bucky offers, laying down his knife to pick up a spoon. He scoops out a bite from the prickly fruit he’d just cut and shovels it in his mouth.

Tony wants to die.

He somewhat successfully stops the whimper in his throat from escaping as he shakes his head.

Bucky’s hip rests against the counter by the coffee maker, and Tony does his damnedest not to brush up against him when he switches it on.

“Not even a taste?” Bucky presses, though Tony has little choice when the cold tip of the spoon demands safe passage through his lips.

And okay, he gets it now—a little slow on the uptake there, Stark—this game of fruit bowl roulette he hadn’t realized they’d invented.

He thinks about stepping back, teasing it out until Bucky’s the one about to break, but his competitive nature isn’t enough to overwrite his desire to have something other than Bucky’s spoon in his mouth, and he gives in almost immediately.

He opens his mouth and tries not to find meaning in the way Bucky’s eyes glaze over.

“Good?” Bucky asks, and Tony hums as he nods.

“Tastes like kiwi.”

Bucky also tastes like kiwi, his mind belatedly supplies. Because Bucky has him pinned against the counter now, and in any other circumstance, Tony’d give as good as he got, but the thigh pressing between his own has his brains scrambled and his defenses down, and it’d take a hard reboot to resist when Bucky hooks his hands behind his knees and lifts.

He’d like to say the kitchen doesn’t need a thorough cleaning when they finish, but he won’t lie. Nor will he hide his blissed out grin when the gang find them sprawled out on the kitchen floor later that morning, Bucky’s head in his lap as he feeds him grapes.

And no one’s surprised when Stark Industries corners the market on plums.


End file.
